Safe
by dawneh
Summary: John Paul's journey back to Dublin...


I don't really remember leaving the hospital. Everything was so much of a blur. How could all that have really happened to me, to my family? How did I just lose my sister, discover a brother, nearly lose my whole family? How was any of that real?

But it was. The blood on my face said it was. The pain in my chest said it was. The overpowering need to get home said it was.

I was on the way to the station when that thought hit me. I wanted to go home. For so many years home had been Chester, Hollyoaks, that little village where my family still lived, most of my family still lived.

But that wasn't my home anymore. My home was in Dublin. But no, that wasn't even the case. I realised that my home wasn't where I was, it was wherever HE was.

Afterwards I would wonder if it was selfish of me to leave my family at a time like that, but at the same time I knew that my being there wouldn't lessen their grief, nothing would ever do that. I knew that staying with them wouldn't take away the pain of seeing my sister's broken body as Dom carried her from the rubble, nothing would ever do that. I knew that being in Chester wouldn't help me, or them…

Niall had all but destroyed my life.

Craig was the only thing that could rebuild it.

I must have looked a mess as I bought a train ticket to get to John Lennon airport. The look in the cashier's eyes said it all as I handed over my money. How strange that, after everything that had happened, I still had my wallet in my pocket.

Niall had taken my phone, maybe to stop me from calling for help, maybe so that he could send lies to Craig, I don't know, but I suppose he didn't expect my money to be of any more use to me.

It was half an hour until the train was due.

I wanted to call Craig. To tell him what had happened. To tell him that I loved him. But I couldn't. I couldn't for the simplest and most ridiculous reason of all. I don't know his number! Surely it's the curse of the modern age that no one ever bothers to memorise telephone numbers anymore. Why would we need to when they are all safely stored in our phones, to be recalled at the touch of a button? At that moment I vowed to learn his number and never let a single digit of it ever slip my mind for the rest of my life.

Standing in the station toilets with my hands gripping onto the cold white porcelain of the basin I looked at my reflection in the mirror and was startled.

No wonder I had been getting so many strange looks. My face was battered. The blood, now dried, made my pale skin look even whiter. I had the look of a ghost, of the undead, and that's how I felt.

As I splashed water onto my face my hands turned crimson with my own blood as I washed it away leaving behind the angry cuts that would one day heal. But what I had seen, everything that had happened and what I had almost done, I don't know if that will ever heal.

I would have killed him that day. I would have taken Niall's life in my hands and ended it if my mother had let me. I was angry that she stopped me. I was grateful that she stopped me.

Looking back in the mirror I could see that my eyes were haunted with the thoughts of what I could have done. How would they have looked if I had taken his life? Would I have even been able to return to Craig, been able to let myself love him, to let him love me back knowing that I was a killer?

Niall killed Kieron. He killed Tina. He nearly killed us all and I truly believe that he deserves to die in return. But not at my hand. He's already taken too much from me. He won't take who I am. He won't take my love. He won't take Craig.

The train journey seemed to take forever, but at the same time it didn't take long enough. The world sped by the window taking me ever closer to Craig and further and further from my family. My freshly cleaned face drew less attention now but I could still see the occasional person looking at my cuts, wondering how they happened or wondering if I was trouble. They would never believe me if I told them.

My hands twisted in my lap, wringing together, my nails clawed against my palms and I hardly noticed.

I wanted to stand up in the middle of the crowded train and scream that my sister, my beautiful, kind and clever sister, was dead, that I had failed to save her. I wanted to be punished for my failure, to be saved from it.

Another cashier, another ticket and another strange look. I could see the worry in her eyes. Was I the sort of person who was going to cause trouble on the flight to Dublin? How could I tell her that I just needed to get home, to get away from the horror of the past couple of days and feel alive again?

I've always been a slightly nervous flyer. It just doesn't seem possible for such a huge heavy creation to be able to soar into the sky with the ease of a bird, but it wasn't the fear of flying that made my knuckles white against the arm rests this time. I had learned far greater fears than that at the hands of a brother I'd never known.

Dublin had never looked more beautiful. The air had never smelled sweeter and the trees had never seemed greener.

It really is a beautiful city, but I didn't see the splendour of my surroundings. I had a far greater beauty as my goal.

It wasn't until I reached our door that I realised one thing I no longer had in my pockets were my keys and it was a shaking hand that pressed the bell to our flat.

I could imagine the familiar jingle that would echo around the room, announcing the presence of a visitor and I closed my eyes in silent prayer as I waited for the door to open.

My heart was pounding as I heard the sound of footsteps, the rattle of the lock and the creak of hinges as the door slowly opened.

"What are you doing here?" Craig's question startled me and I shook my head in confusion. He looked even more beautiful than I remembered. I felt as if I'd been away for years. But there was more than beauty in his face. His gentle brown eyes were heavy with grief and I could tell he'd been crying.

"Craig?" I reached out one shaking hand but he stepped back from me as if I was poison.

"You walk out on me… dump me by text… what are you doing here John Paul… have you come for your stuff? Is that it?"

"Craig no… I never… I didn't…"

Taking a step forward I grabbed Craig's hands and held them tightly, he was shaking as much as me and I was given one more reason to hate Niall. He'd made Craig believe that I didn't love him.

"Craig," I said again. My voice cracked, I couldn't even find the words to tell him what had happened, instead we just looked at each other, frozen in a moment of time, a moment I could have stood in forever.

"What happened?" Craig asked as he shook off my hold to reach his hand to the cut on my forehead, his fingertips touching it gently, making me wince at the pain but also grateful for the touch.

The hurt in his eyes was replaced with concern, with love and I knew I hadn't lost him. I would never lose him.

"Craig…" The name slipped from my lips in a hoarse whisper as the tears that I had held back for so many painful hours began to pour from my eyes.

I cried as if I might never stop. Tears over Tina, my family, my fear, Niall, Kieron, so much pain, so much grief it was almost more than I could bare. I would have been more than I could bare alone.

Craig pulled me into his arms and held me tightly as I wept.

There would come the time when I would tell him what happened. When I would share with him every moment of that nightmare, every thought and every fear.

But this wasn't that time.

For now I just needed him to hold me and he did.

I needed him to tell me that he loved me, and he did.

I need him to make me feel safe. And he does.


End file.
